


Camera Shy

by breeisonfire



Series: TAG prompt fics [27]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Ugh, as a sound tech microphones are a pain in the ass, could be read as a relationship, i wrote this instead of working on my essay because i suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: Alan's good on rescues. He's not so good on camera.





	Camera Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Preludinz and I love these two and I asked her for a prompt. She said Alan joining Brandon on a stream soooo tada.

Alan stared at the camera. It was funny, how it was small and unassuming. Just a box of wires and glass, covered by a sturdy casing. Light passed through the lens and was turned into signals, then converted to pixels through a sensor. Or something like that. He hadn’t looked it up before he’d agreed to do this.

Yes, he had. He really had, and it was not helping his nerves at all.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

He heard a scoff from underneath the desk and leaned down to look at Brandon Berrenger, adrenaline junkie, livestream extraordinaire, and the _asshole_ who had talked Alan into joining him for a stream, despite Alan’s reluctance. He’d put on puppy dog eyes and reminded Alan it was for charity, and any argument Alan had wanted to use had been shot down by that.

“You’ll be fine,” Brandon said, plugging something in. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I don’t think -,” Alan started, but Brandon held up his hand as he crawled out from underneath the desk.

“Speak into the mic,” he said, pointing at the mic that was sitting on the desk in front of Alan. “I need to test it.”

Alan huffed and leaned close to it. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Brandon shrugged as he pulled headphones on. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. It’ll be fine. Keep talking, I have to adjust the levels.”

“Is this good?” Alan said, deliberately too loud. He grinned as Brandon winced.

“Way too hot,” Brandon glared at him. “Back away from the mic. Just get comfortable and talk normally, I’ll adjust it to pick your voice up and not blow out the audience’s eardrums, unlike mine, you dick.”

“Sorry,” Alan said, sitting back. “Is this okay? What do I talk about?”

“Why don’t you think you can do this?” Brandon asked, turning towards his computer.

“I don’t know, I’m not good in front of cameras,” Alan said.

“Says who?” Brandon asked.

“I dunno, says me?” Alan said.

“Doesn’t count.”

“It just makes me nervous, okay?” Alan said. “It freaks me out.”

Brandon blinked and turned to him. “Do you have stage fright?”

Alan felt himself start to turn red. “Maybe.”

Brandon stared at him for a long moment. “Dude, you _literally_ fly a _rocket_.”

“Yeah, but  _that’s_ easy!” Alan said.

“You are the only person who could say that without sounding like a total tool,” Brandon informed him. “And anyway, don’t you have to talk to people when you’re on a rescue?”

“That’s different,” Alan said.

“How?” Brandon asked.

“That’s when I’m on duty,” Alan said. “I’m -.”

He stopped. It was hard to explain the feeling to anyone. He didn’t quite understand it himself. When he was on duty, he was almost a different person. Not to his brothers; to them he was still their baby brother, albeit one who flew a rocket. But to other people, when he was in the IR uniform, he was an authority. He was the one they looked to for help, the one that showed up when they needed it. The uniform made it easier to fall into that attitude, almost like a costume. He liked to think of it as armor.

When he wasn’t in uniform, it was harder to access that. It was dumb - he was still himself. He was still Alan Tracy, International Rescue operative, pilot of Thunderbird Three, the youngest son of Jeff Tracy. He was still the same person who had flown around the sun and been to Europa. It just didn’t always feel like it. People acted different toward him. He felt younger. It was weird.

“- It’s just different,” he finished, somewhat lamely.

“Yeah, I get it,” Brandon said. “Different masks, huh?”

Alan grimaced. Of course Brandon, who had a public image of a character he had to uphold, would understand. It wasn’t quite the same, but Alan didn’t care all that much. It was similar, and Brandon didn’t seem to want to push anymore, instead turning to look back at the screen.

“Keep talking,” Brandon said. “That mic hasn’t been used for a while and it’s picky. Walk me through your last rescue.”

“It was an easy one,” Alan said. “I went with Virgil in Two. He needed a copilot and Gordon was off rotation, so I went with, and I used a pod to help dig out a truck that was sinking in mud. We had to scrub down the pod when we got back. I’m just glad I didn’t fall in the mud this time. I’ve done that before and Virgil got annoyed when I had to track it inside of Two to get home.”

Brandon snorted. “He doesn’t seem the type to be annoyed by mud.”

“We’re all protective of our ‘birds,” Alan said, fidgeting. He glanced at the clock and saw there was only five minutes before the stream was supposed to start. His stomach clenched. He wasn’t ready for this.

“They are pretty badass,” Brandon said. “I’m gonna turn on the camera now and get it set up. You gonna be okay?”

Alan shrugged. Brandon raised an eyebrow.

“Just think about it like this,” he said. “You can’t be any worse than Scott was.”

That startled a laugh out of Alan, making Brandon grin. Alan had to grin back, and shook his head.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “You were being deliberately bratty and he was trying to save your life.”

“Exactly,” Brandon said. “And look at that! We’re not on a rescue or in any danger. You can relax.”

“I think I’d prefer a rescue,” Alan muttered, but oddly enough, he _was_ feeling more settled. He sighed and watched Brandon set the camera up, pointing so it picked up both of them.

“‘Kay,” Brandon said, sitting back. “Sign in, I gotta make sure the game audio is synced up to the video.”

“This is more technical than I thought,” Alan said, taking the controller he was handed and signing in to his account with practiced ease. Seeing his familiar character on screen helped him calm down even further. He could do this. He was just hanging out with Brandon.

Brandon and his millions of viewers.

“I can hear you freaking out from here,” Brandon said. “You’re good at this game, there’s no reason to freak out.”

“Are we taking questions?” Alan asked. He’d watched a few of Brandon’s streams before, and he always interacted with people in the chat.

“I will, but you don’t have to,” Brandon said. “I’d appreciate it if you did, but I know you have a whole image thing, too. I don’t want to get you in any trouble. You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.”

Alan took a deep breath. “We’ll see.”

“Atta boy,” Brandon said, and reached for his phone. “Hang on, I’m gonna tweet that we’re starting, and then we’ll go live. Put on these headphones.”

“Oh, God,” Alan said, pulling the headphones on.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“Shut up.”

“There we go,” Brandon said, and glanced at Alan. “Ready? I’m gonna countdown from three and start, okay?”

“Wait,” Alan said. “Countdown from five.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really,” Alan said.

Brandon sighed. “You’re a dork.”

Alan ignored him. “Five.”

“Four,” Brandon said, rolling his eyes.

“Three,” Alan couldn’t resist giving Brandon a goofy grin.

“Two.”

“One.”

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](https://drdone.tumblr.com/) if you wanna hit me up with some prompts or the like.


End file.
